Suspicious Behaviour
by 4b4ndon3d 4ccoun7
Summary: America and Russia have been acting strangely friendly with each other lately... England doesn't like it. USUK only, absolutely no real RussiAmerica at all. Just England's imagination going crazy on him again. Pre-relationship.
1. Unwanted Discoveries

**Oh gosh, it's been so long since I've written anything... ;w; I hope this is satisfactory, it sure took me long enough to actually FINISH it, of course only working on it like once a month didn't help in the slightest, but...anyway, yeah, written for a friend. This one wanted America and Russia to talk about something cultural or...something. :'D I don't exactly know what all that entails, and I don't know much about Russian culture anyway, so I just had them casually talking about various things. But I digress. England was supposed to overhear, and get super jealous, and it was supposed to end in jealous!England topping America.**

**I like criticism, but only if it's HELPFUL. (As in don't leave a comment telling me I suck. If you think I'm a bad writer, tell me WHY.)**

**Obligatory disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, and I don't own the nations. With that, enjoy.**

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**EDIT: Someone requested that I take out caps and make them, instead, italics. So I did. :3**

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If there was one thing that Arthur Kirkland never would have suspected, it was that America and Russia would actually get along. The two had never really given any indication that they were terribly fond of each other, after all, and in fact, most of the time they seemed to quite dislike each other. They would bicker, and quarrel, and they always seemed to be at the other's throat when they were talking, and when they were together, the tension in the air was so overwhelming that you could barely breathe. When they were apart, America would fuss about how annoying the Russian could be, and it was a well known fact that, to Russia, the citizens of America's land were known 'affectionately' as 'American pigs', not to mention that America was always calling himself a hero, and considered communism evil. They didn't like each other, plain and simple, and that's just how it was. Or rather...that's what everyone believed.

It was by pure coincidence that England had come across them that day. He had some paperwork to complete, but he had lost his pen, and he was led to the meeting room as he retraced his steps to search for it. The meeting had taken a half-hour recess, so no one should have been in the room at that time, as this was when everyone usually went for lunch, but when his hand rested on the doorknob, and he went to turn the handle...he heard laughter. His brows furrowed. He recognised the laugh, of course, he'd heard it many times himself, but...it was different than usual. It was soft, entertained, and nowhere near as loud and obnoxious as he remembered. It had been ages since he had heard that particular laugh, as long ago as the 1800s, and it made him curious. Slowly, quietly, he opened the door, but when he peeked in, he frowned. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. It was just America, sitting in his usual spot, but...that didn't explain why he was laughing. Or why he was there in the first place. He was always the first one out of the meeting, rushing for the food. The Briton shrugged. America seemed to be alone, he didn't suppose there was any reason he shouldn't go in and look for his pen, and so he opened the door a bit wider, hesitating when he saw a flash of tan. He recognised that tan as Russia's coat, everyone was _always _on the lookout for that coat, and so he stopped short, even before he could peek his head in. America laughed again, and he could hear Russia talking this time, though he couldn't understand a lot of what he said. He was sitting across from the American, and they both appeared to be smiling, and something about the situation...really _really _didn't seem right...

"...can't wait! ...love...you will enjoy it..!"

"Of course! It is you, after all!"

America's voice was much clearer, much easier to understand. England supposed that America just had one of those voices that carried, and-! Wait...what was that? England's ears twitched. What were those two talking about..? They really were being awfully friendly, weren't they? Ah well, it was probably just a coincidence, even France and he could have civil conversation on occasion, and they _hated _each other! Yes, he must have just caught them in one of their...very few, and very rare moments of civility. That was all. He would go in, and get his pen, and leave the two men be to finish their conversation in peace.

"...comrade Jones!"

...he hunkered back behind the door.

"Oh, yeah, totally! I'm looking forward to it! I've heard it's good..."

"Then perhaps...together sometime!"

"That would be awesome! Oh, hey, did that other movie come out yet? I've been wanting to see it, but I don't know when it's coming out, I haven't thought to check it on the internet..."

"Oh, Дa, it has come out just a few days ago! If I would have known that you wanted to see it, I would have given you a call! You should have told me, comrade! We can take a plane back to my country after the meeting, and you can stay with me for a few days while you recover from the long ride! We can see it together!"

Russia's voice got louder, more excited... Why the hell would America want to go to Russia's house anyway? It was probably just some plan to keep him there, and force him to become one with him or something! Surely America would never just go with him like that, even the dense American was smart enough not to!

"Really! Ivan, you're the coolest, I've been looking forward to it!"

...okay, something was very wrong here. Maybe America was brainwashed..? Whoa, wait, did he just call Russia 'Ivan'! Since when were those two so friendly! Scratch that, America was _obviously _brainwashed! England's eye twitched, and he frowned, eye narrowing at the two. He was suddenly at full attention. He knew that it couldn't be how it sounded, it sounded like they were planning a date, but still...those words, just thinking about them...he got an uncomfortable feeling. Surely he had misheard, or...or that couldn't have been what they were really talking about, because...well...it was _Russia _and _America_. It had to be a misunderstanding. Yes, of course, that was all. He laughed to himself for being so paranoid, and made another move to enter the room. ...or maybe he would just listen in for a little longer. They might be about to argue or something, and he should really be there to break them up. Couldn't have the meeting resume with a bloodied America and a bruised up Russia now, could they? Of course not!

"Of course, comrade Jones! I have been wanting to see it as well, and why should you have to pay for more air fare than needed by going back to your house before coming to mine? It only makes sense, Дa? By the way...I'm not certain I ever asked you... What is your favourite kind of film?"

"Action!" America answered quickly. "With explosions, and heroes who always get the girl in the end!" Was he...blushing..? "I...gotta admit, I enjoy a good romance movie to even out all the action, though... Don't tell anyone."

"Of course not, comrade Jones! Your secret will be safe with me."

England growled. All he wanted was his stupid pen, why the hell did he have to listen to this shite..? It wasn't as if he was jealous or anything, no, why _would _he be! It was only America! And Russia. But Russia didn't matter! O-only because he didn't get along with Russia though, that was all! Yes...that was all.

"Ruddy bastards..."

Okay, fine, he was jealous. But why wouldn't he be! America was good looking, he was young, strong...he had a good figure, no matter what he normally said about the boy, and he was friendly, outspoken... It was no secret that the Englishman was quite taken with America (at least, according to France,) but America had always seemed so oblivious, and...England had never gotten the courage to tell him how he felt. He was starting to wish that he would have...

"So comrade Jones, enough about entertainment. I'm curious about Florida."

England bristled. Everyone knew what Florida supposedly represented on the American's body, how dare he be so...so tactless about it! That was it, he was going in...

"I heard that your space centre is scheduled to launch a craft soon..?"

...oh. The space centre. Yes...of course. England blushed. He was letting his imagination run away with his assumptions... He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Of course nothing was going on with them, why was he being so ridiculous..! He groaned softly, unable to _not _think of how stupid he was being...

"Oh yeah!" the American replied, eyes lighting up. He was so proud of his space expeditions... Such a young country, yet he was one of the top nations with such projects, he had every reason to be proud. "Taurus! That's its name! It's scheduled to be shot in November, on the...22nd, I think! We're launching some satellites, I'm really excited!"

"That is good! One should be happy about their achievements, Дa? I have some missions planned for this year, just a few small ones... I am most looking forward to when they announce the next manned mission! Those are always my favourites..."

"Ohhhh, yeaaah!" What, was he having an orgasm! He didn't have to say it like _that_! "Those are the best... Watching your people go up so high, knowing that they're gonna see the world as a whole... Not just one piece of it, not just one nation, but everyone...all together like that..." He smiled quite fondly... "I wish I could see it for myself one day... It's gotta be a great sight..."

"Perhaps you could see it one day, comrade Jones. If you give up, then you can never see your dreams come true! This is why I still hold out hope that I will have all my comrades live with me again some day!"

Russia's voice softened. England really had to strain to hear what he was saying, but he did make it out, and...was Russia always that gentle..? He frowned, sadly. The way he said it...that tone of voice...it really sounded like he cared for America... England couldn't stand it. He was angry and sad, and he didn't know how to handle himself. He wanted to rush in there, pull Alfred away and yell at the Russian, he wanted to run off and lock himself away, and he wanted to keep listening, all at the same time. He didn't want to believe it, but they really seemed like they were having a good time together... He had noticed the change in disposition. He had paid attention to the strange glances they had begun to cast each other on occasion...but he didn't know it was like _this_. What was he going to do..? He dared himself to glance up, and instantly wished he hadn't... He had ended up closing the door a ways, and so really, all he could see was America, or...a little bit of him, and the little bit he saw...was leaning forward, over the table. He couldn't see America's head, but he could tell what was going on anyway, and he swallowed, hot and thick. He had never told America how he felt, and now he was paying for it. America was with another, and he was...obviously happy. England rubbed at his eyes. He could feel tears coming on, but no. There were still several hours left in the meeting, and the break was almost over. He had to keep himself composed, and so he took a few deep breaths before his breath caught in his throat. America had laughed again...that same, happy chuckle that he had heard as he opened the door the first time...

"That tickles, Ivan!"

"Ah, I am sorry, comrade, I did not mean for it to."

England grit his teeth. He still had paperwork to do... He didn't have long to do it, but he still had to get it done, and he still had to look for his pen... He stood up straight, tried to keep his emotions in tact, and opened the door the rest of the way, head hung low. The two men leapt back from whatever the hell they were doing, and stared at him, America's face red.

"England..! What are you doing here, there's still a good ten minutes until the meeting's back in session!"

He tried to ignore the clenching in his gut.

"I can't find my pen... I thought that maybe I had left it in here..."

America nodded.

"Yeah, I think I saw a pen at your space... Um...yeah, it's a blue one, isn't it?"

"That's it."

"Then it's here! Geez, England, and you fuss at _me _for being careless!"

England all but cringed. There was that laugh, his typical, loud, and obnoxious laugh, and for a moment, England wanted to yell. Why couldn't America send that amused laugh his way? The one that said he was happy, and didn't care about the rest of the world? He forced himself to step forward, but as he took hold of his pen, clenching his fist around it, America's laughter died. England wanted to simply leave, and he was about to, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He glanced up to see America, brows furrowed and an odd expression bordering concern on his face.

"You okay, Iggy? You're kinda pale..."

Oh, yes, that was perfect... Pay attention to how he looks when he feels like shite, but when he dresses up, or wears special cologne, don't even bat an eye... The Englishman cursed to himself, index and thumb massaging his eyes. He was fine...that's what he would say. He was...perfectly fine...

"Nothing's wrong, America, don't worry about it..."

"Perhaps he should lay down!"

That damn Russian sounded far too happy...

"Maybe he should... Hey, don't go throwing up on us during the meeting, okay, Iggy?"

Why couldn't he be more wary of what he said..? England frowned, his brows knitting together in frustration. He couldn't stay there, he would only end up letting his emotions get the better of him...

"I'm sorry for interrupting you two, America. Russia. I have my pen now, I'll...be going..."

The hand on his shoulder did not move.

"Nah, we were just talking, it's no big deal..."

"America, really, it's fine... I don't care."

"Don't care about what? What did you think we were doing?"

"You don't have to act like you don't know, America, really...if you like him, I don't care... It hardly bothers me."

"'Like him'..? Like him how!"

"You two pretend not to get along, so there must be a reason you haven't said anything... I won't tell anyone, you don't have to worry."

America frowned deeper, clearly confused. What was there to be confused about? He said he wouldn't tell, he meant it. If they wanted to keep their love a secret, far be it for England to reveal their emotions. He stopped short, his thoughts being halted by a realisation.

"...isn't homosexuality illegal in Russia..?"

"H-homosexu-? England, what the hell are you on!"

"Дa, homosexuality is outlawed in my country... But I am a nation, and we are different! My boss knows of international relations, they are unavoidable! Male or female, I must be prepared to accept offers that are handed to me."

"So...wait...then all he is to you is an 'offer'..!"

"England, I think you've got the wrong idea about us..."

"No, America, it's fine, I heard you talking to him. I saw...I saw you...k-kissing him..."

"K-...kissing!"

"Well...I didn't _see _it, America, don't worry, but...I saw you were leant over the table, just...I assumed... It-it doesn't matter, America, I have my pen now, I need to go..."

He pulled away, forcing his shoulder out of the superpower's grip, and if America had anything more to say, then he didn't say it. Then again, England was out the door faster than the American _could _say anything, and he hastily and sloppily filled out his papers. The meeting resumed as normal, and as the Briton sat in his usual chair, the one he had always _thought _he was lucky to have (until the incident earlier of course,) America leant over from the chair right beside him, whispering to him.

"I want to talk to you after the meeting... Stick around for a while."

England cursed himself. Maybe his nation would have some kind of severe financial decline while he was in the meeting and he would just keel over and die... Where was Busby's Chair when he _really _needed it..?


	2. Anticipation

The meeting didn't last nearly long enough in his opinion. America had kept sending him glances, and Russia kept smiling their way, and he had made a fool of himself when Germany asked him if he had anything to say and his only response was 'Uh...what?' France, the daft idiot, had laughed at him, which was _just _what this day had needed, and England had actually gotten up to run from the room before Switzerland intervened and told them to sit down and shut up. Now that the meeting was finally over, the Brit was hustling to get his things together, trying to leave, to run before America could catch him, and before he had to hear anything about that bastard, Russia. Okay, notes, references, that blasted pen of his, and his briefcase, good... He stuffed everything inside the case, glancing over to America, who was...who was talking to Russia again, dammit, _why _was he talking to Russia again! He growled to himself, glaring at the scarved prick. He would never forgive that bastard of a nation for taking America, for making him smile like that... England was supposed to be the only one who could make him laugh like that, so carefree, and happy, and he was pissed off that he had seen that face and he wasn't the one who had caused it! Wait, what did he even care now, anyway..? America had found someone special, and that was difficult to do for a nation. He was...he was happy for America. Happy that he found someone he liked, someone he truly loved, and...and he felt tears coming on... Why hadn't he told America how he felt before..? He sighed, blushing when he caught the man in question glancing up at him, but...it was too late to think the best now, and he turned, ready to get back home and drown his desire to rip the Russian a new one in alcohol and tea... He sighed, making his way out the door quickly, and using the other nations filtering out as cover. It was quite irksome to the man, hearing laughter, and cheerful banter being exchanged as he made his way down the hall, but just when he stepped onto the small stairway just outside the exit, he paused, feeling a hand clap itself onto his shoulder.

"Ah...please excuse me, Igirisu-san, but...Amerika-san wished for me to ask you not to leave just yet. It appears that he has something that he would like to say to you."

The Englishman cursed to himself. He was so close to leaving, he was outside, he was free! Why was America sending people to make sure he didn't leave..! If he really wanted to talk, why couldn't he break away from his conversation with Russia and come get him himself..! He took a moment to calm down. He supposed that he just wasn't as important as the big-boned nation, and turned his head, nodding sadly. This was turning out to be one of the worst days of his life. At least one of the top three since coming across America in the first place.

"Thank you, Japan... I'll be sure to see him before I leave."

Of course he was lying... There was no way that he could face the American. Not without shouting at him for something or other at least, that's what he tended to do when upset, so he figured it would be best to avoid the man until he had time to truly absorb the situation. Ugh, the image of America and Russia kissing would forever be ingrained into his mind, and honestly, he had already teared up three times during the two hours they had sat in the meeting room... He was frustrated at himself for not telling America how he felt in the first place, and angry at the Russian for taking him away, and upset with America for never telling him that he was with Russia, and he was just one big mess... He ran his fingers sloppily through his hair, and turned to go back inside. He was just going to have to find a bathroom to hide in before America noticed that he was still there. Yes, he would hide until the coast was clear, and then he could slip out without being noticed, and...and it was at that moment when he realised that he was acting childish. Like...like a prepubescent girl trying to deal with her first crush! That thought somehow didn't sit well with him, and he frowned, biting his lip. He really didn't want to, not in the slightest, but now, with the image of himself blushing, and crying, and hiding in the bathroom, like hell he was going to let that terrifying vision become a reality. He still had pride, he was an _empire _once, and he was just going to have to face the American like a man. He would be hunted down until he was cornered anyway, America was kind of stubborn like that, and so he clenched his fists, swallowed, and stepped forward, ready to resign himself to his fate.

The atmosphere was still far too cheerful, it was dampening his already quite soggy mood, and he growled to himself as he made his way back down the hallway, hesitating as he passed the bathrooms. Of course, he kept going, but he would be lying if he told himself that he didn't think pretty hard about going in there... The room they always booked for meetings wasn't that far away, he reached it rather quickly, much to his chagrin, and cringed as he remembered again what he saw, the poor man drooping visibly.

"Англия!" (Angliya!)

He jumped, head snapping up to see the Russian coming out of the room. Dammit, he was so unfocused! He had to pull it together...

"Alfred seems upset with you, Англия!" Yeah, thanks, you don't have to sound _happy _about it, bastard... "You seem rather upset too, actually! Hmm, I wonder if you two have been fighting again? You really should make up with him, Англия, he appears to be worried!"

England could have sworn that the Russian's eyes narrowed... Dangerously. He took a step back, he knew what that look meant, and he wasn't happy about it...

"But I think I know what this is about... Why do your thoughts bother you so much, Англия..? The moment you caught us kissing...it was only after that when you started acting strangely! I am not an idiot, Англия, I can read your thoughts quite easily! Tell me then! Are you angry with me for stealing him away from you..?"

England froze, blood turning to ice. His interpretation was far too accurate, and his tone of voice chilled the Briton to the bone... It was sometimes easy to forget that the Russian was also a nation, skilled at tactics, and strategy, and really quite intelligent. He has such a sweet face, and play-dumb attitude, people tended to not take him seriously at times, but what was he doing now..? Trying to rile him? Trying to scare him? Well, it sure was unnerving him at least, and he felt a twinge of fury in his heart when he heard the Russian mention the kiss. So he admitted it... They _were _kissing, he was right... He swallowed thickly, turning his head away. What was he to say to that..?

"Then I am right! I wonder if you two will start to fight while you are in there! Maybe you two will tear each other to shreds, and then I can take over your lands!"

He chuckled, absolutely beaming. It almost made England sick... He would never change, talking about taking America's land when they were in a relationship... He really did only see America as territory, nothing more than land to gain, and the poor boy was being fooled... If he really did love the Russian man though, how was he supposed to be able to talk him out of it! He bit his lip, trying not to say anything, and lucky for him, America peeked his head out of the door, because he was about to lose his calm...

"Oh, England, there you are! Good, I really thought you would leave, geez! Ah...oh, hey, Ivan, thanks again. I'll be out in a little while to leave, just as soon as I talk to England here, okay?"

"Of course, comrade Jones! I will be waiting."

They waved, and Russia walked off, leaving him there with America to talk, and regardless of the chill that remained in the air, he still had that nervous twinge in his stomach at the thought of having to talk with America alone about something like _that_. He realised suddenly that he was in high danger of inadvertently admitting his feelings and...well...he didn't want to do that, for obvious reasons. If he was afraid of rejection before, then he was practically quaking in his boots at the thought of America finding out _now_... He allowed himself to be led inside, and when America shut the door, he turned back to the Briton, his usual happy demeanour gone. England backed himself to a chair and turned it around, sitting. He really didn't want to be there...


	3. Confrontation

**And apparently FF won't let you put more than one ending punctuation at the end of a sentence. So I've put spaces between the exclamation points** **and question marks! Hooray for making it look awkward! I also probably missed a few... Crap.  
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"England..." the American began, hanging his head sadly. "What exactly do you think is going on..?"

He remained silent, feeling for all the world like a scolded child, and all he knew to do was keep his head low, stare at the ground... Maybe he wouldn't snap out something stupid, or say something he would regret.

"You think Russia and I are a couple..?"

More silence. Just get it over with, sit it out, you can make it...

"Come on England, if you don't speak up I can't tell what's wrong!"

"I..."

No, no, don't start talking, you're confused right now, you'll say something stupid!

"I...I'm fine. There isn't anything wrong..."

Good, good, nice fib, just...don't let him know. He's already got a lover, he'll reject you, and then what little relationship you've built up with him will crumble again! You can't have that... It's taken this long to build it back up again, he can't find out, you can't let him know!

"Really?"

"Yes."

"That's a lie England, I can tell..."

Oh, shite, was he moving closer..?

"Why don't you just tell me what's wrong! Is it really that bad? It's okay, you can tell me, I'm the hero, remember? I just wanna know why you're so down!"

"Where are you going?"

"Huh?"

"With Russia. Where are you going?"

"Come on England, don't change the subject..."

"Answer the damn question, Alfred!"

And thus, began the yelling. He knew it, he _always _did this when upset, even when he was making a conscious effort not to. He would never change... Maybe America was better off with Russia after all. All he did around the American was yell, and fight, and that wouldn't make a healthy relationship at all... He furrowed his brows, keeping his glare aimed at the ground.

"We're...just going to see a movie..."

"At his place! ?"

"Well, yeah, England, it's a Russian movie! It only just came out over there, I've been wanting to see it!"

"With him! ?"

"He offered, and I accepted! How much of our conversation were you eavesdropping on, England?"

"...never mind. It doesn't matter anyway..."

"Yes it does! So you think that Russia and I are together because you overheard us talking about going to see a _movie _together..! I go to see movies with Canada all the time!"

"You used his human name!"

"I don't like formalities!"

"Why don't you ever call me by my name! ?"

"Because you fuss at me when I do! Why are you yelling at me, England, I haven't done anything!"

The Briton had to pause at that. Hadn't done anything? Heh. He had done something terrible, and he didn't even realise it. England would have to make sure to keep it that way, he was probably close to blurting something out. He was already yelling, which wasn't a good sign, so he was really having to keep tabs on himself now.

"It doesn't matter what you've done, Alfred, we aren't getting anywhere, so why don't you just let me go back to the hotel, yeah..?"

There was silence. A long silence permeating the room, and he was suddenly stricken with fear. What had he said, what had America heard..? It was discomforting, that silence, and as it dragged on, England's nerves began to fray. He was getting paranoid, he didn't _remember _saying anything strange, but what if he had? What if he had let something slip, and hadn't even realised it!

"A-America..?"

"You called me 'Alfred'..."

Oh, perfect, now America was upset with him. He scrambled around for an excuse, anything that would even be mildly believable, and he sputtered it out, still not looking up from a very interesting floor.

"You...you said that you didn't like formality!"

"Well yeah, but you're all about it! I'm just surprised!"

Well, he sounded a bit more cheerful than before...

"Hey, does that mean I really can call you 'Arthur'! ? You weren't kidding! ?"

"Uh...what?"

He finally allowed himself to glance up, and when did America get so close! He was looming over him, he actually had to crane his neck to see his face!

"Arthur! You called me by my human name, so does that mean I can call you by yours too! ?"

The Englishman honestly didn't know what to say to that. All he could do was blush, and nod, and America got the most _vibrant _grin on his face. It warmed England's heart, because it _wasn't _the Russian who had made him smile like that, and hell, the man wasn't even in the room! It was him. All him, him alone, and him only, and America was looking at HIM with that smile!

"So...Arthur...why do you seem so mad at Russia then?"

...why couldn't that daft idiot just leave well enough alone and let him enjoy his moment in peace! He turned his gaze back to the ground, and pouted.

"I just...don't like that vodka drinking prat, that's all... I never have."

"Aww, I thought you were in a good mood! You're supposed to drop your guard and tell all your secrets when you're in a good mood!"

Did he really just have that little tact..?

"I did tell you why I seem mad at him!"

"No you didn't! I know that's not why you're upset, because you were acting fine before you found us in the meeting room!"

How was it that it was _today _of all days that America decided to pay attention! ?

"Really, Alf-eh, America, if-if you really _must _know why I seem so upset with him, then...then it...it's because..!"

Augh, dammit, he needed another excuse! He could only come up with so many, he didn't know WHAT to say, at least nothing that wouldn't sound utterly ridiculous, and he struggled and fumbled until his face lit up.

"It's because my boss is going into a war with Russia soon, and I don't want him to be close to you! If you ally with him, then you'll get hurt unnecessarily!"

There was another moment's silence, the two English speaking nations staring each other down, and the Englishman could only blink once before America pouted, glaring at him. Why was he glaring! ? What did he say now! ?

"England, like hell I could ever get hurt by you... I think we already pretty much established that I can fuck you over sideways in war..."

England growled, having not taken kindly to that comment... He stood up, balled his fists, and pushed past the man, waving him off as he moved towards the door. He was pretty sure he just got over the American. Who needed that git anyway?

"On second thought...I don't care if you ally with Russia. Bombing you on my way to him could be fun! I do still have a bit of anger to let out on you, after all, don't think I've forgotten all the shite you put me through..."

"Oh, come on England, that's not cool! What's your beef with me?"

Of course he would use a saying revolving around _meat_. England rolled his eyes, turning to frown at the boy again. He was going to have permanent wrinkles in his forehead if this kept up... Damn that Russian to the deepest depths of the lowest levels of hell for doing this to him. He was too young to have wrinkles...

"I'm a nation known for holding grudges, America... It's the way I've always been, ever since I can remember, and no matter how much time passes, the freshest wound on my body will always be the one I seek the most vengeance for."

"Wouldn't the most recent wound be the Blitz..?"

"Do you have no tact at all! ? Blimey, you don't seem threatened in the _slightest!_"

"Why would I be threatened, it's only you!"

"Why you little _brat!_"

And for just a moment, his love was coated by anger, and the Englishman lunged at the boy, tackling him to the ground. His hands went to America's collar, and fingers gripped tight, and England proceeded to shake the American roughly, jostling his head back and forth in hopes of damaging his brain. Or maybe rattling his eyeballs out. Either one would have sufficed.

"E-England! What the hell!"

"Don't you 'what the hell' me, you've had this coming for a _long _time! I don't even know _why _I cared that you were with Russia, it isn't as if I have anything to gain by being with you myself, and really, I'm starting to think it would be a _horrendous _idea!"

"Wha-! What would be a horrendous idea! ?"

With a grunt of force, the American's head slammed into the floor, the Briton having taken to beating his skull into the floor now. He seemed far too pleased to be causing damage, and he still didn't seem terribly convinced that America wasn't dating Russia, and unfortunately for America, he was the closest thing for the Anglo nation to take his frustrations out on.

"You're stubborn, and an idiot, and tactless, and the _opposite _of me, and you eat too many burgers, and you cause _unimagineable _amounts of trouble, and you hate me anyway, and DAMMIT, DESPITE ALL OF THAT SHITE, I FALL FOR YOU! I DON'T KNOW WHETHER TO LOVE YOU OR HATE YOU, SO I END UP DOING BOTH! STOP MAKING ME LOVE YOU, YOU IDIOT, DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH GRIEF IT CAUSES ME!"

"W-wait, Eng-! England! You-you what! ? OW! STOP-STOP BANGING MY-MY HEAD INTO THE-GYAH! FLOOR!"

"NOT UNTIL I'M SATISFIED!"

"HOW LONG IS-! THAT GOING TO TAKE! ?

"AS LONG AS I NEED!"

The answer to America's question came about three minutes later (a long time when your head is being struck continuously from the back with shattering force,) and England finally dropped the American, standing up and clapping his hands off, chest heaving with the adrenaline and exertion. America was left on the floor, groaning and rubbing the back of his head, and he cautiously sat up, wincing when he felt quite the knot resting there on his skull. He stood to his feet, grabbing the desk for balance, and wobbled a bit, brain having been effectively scrambled with the (in his opinion) unneeded force.

"E...England...oww, damn..! Are you finally done!"

"For now..."

"Can I say something!"

"_Can _you'..?" His brow arched, and America rolled his eyes.

"_May _I say something..?"

"Until I get tired of hearing you talk, then yes."

"Ugh! You're such a bastard..!"

"All right, I'm tired of hearing you talk now..."

"Wait, no, that...that wasn't what I wanted to say!"

"Then what _did _you want to say!"

"I wanted to ask you about what you said, now will you stop interrupting me! ? Geez!"

England paused. What _had _he said..? He was busy focusing on running America's ego into the flooring, he wasn't really paying too much attention to what he was saying, and to tell the truth, he'd...kind of forgotten what all of this was about.

"I wanted to ask you what you meant when you said something about us being together was a bad idea!"

...did England's heart just stop..? He took a moment to check for it. He could hear it pulsing through his ears, and he cursed inwardly for still being alive... Okay, great, now to find yet another excuse to add to the countless others he'd come up with that day. Maybe...maybe he was just so frustrated that he'd blurted something random out without thinking, or...or maybe he could say something about America's brain having been damaged, and he was remembering things wrong...

"O-oh, that? No, I...I didn't mean us being together like _that_! No, that...eh...that was...I just meant...you and me...t-together as in...j-just being in the same room! Th-that is...I-I mean I...we end up fighting with each other every time, and...and one of us always gets hurt! It's...n-not a good idea..!"

"Then what was all that stuff about having fallen for me despite all the crap I give you! ?"

"I said something about that! ?"

"_Yes!_"

England suddenly felt faint... The room was spinning around him, and he could hear a rushing in his ears, and all of this added to his vision tunnelling made him feel ill... His face turned pale, and he swayed a bit, the man quite unsteady on his feet, but to his credit, he never fell. He stumbled backwards, his only instinct to get away as fast as possible, but America was quick, and he put a tight grip on the Brit's wrist.

"A-Alfred, I don't want to talk about this!"

"Too bad!"

"You _brat!_ Let me go!"

"Not until I get some answers!"

"I'm going back to the hotel!"

"I'm coming with you!"

"I'm going by _myself!_"

"By yourself and _me,_ you mean!"

The American's voice was beginning to make England's eye twitch, and he grit his teeth, a poor substitute for biting Alfred's head off... It wasn't as if he _really _wanted the man to die, but...okay, yeah, he kind of really wanted to do more damage at this point. He used as much strength as he could muster to pull himself free, and without so much as another word, he turned, legs a blur as he tore the door open and ran for his car. He could hear the shout, hear the footsteps behind him, and as he burst through the double doors, reaching for his keys, he cursed, realising that he'd forgotten his briefcase with everything in it inside... Once those doors were locked up, they wouldn't be open to him until the next meeting, and he _needed _those papers, but was he really willing to go back and face America to get them..? He heaved out a puff of air, and skidded to a stop, nearly falling over with the few pieces of rock that rolled under his feet, but as soon as he regained his footing, he hopped to the side, shouting in surprise when America ran past him, glancing behind his shoulder when he realised that he'd overshot his goal. England took this opportunity to run back into the building, grabbing his briefcase and taking a moment to catch his breath before he ran back out, and...and wait, did...did America follow him back in..? He got his answer when he smashed into the man, who had waited for him outside the doors of the building... The boy held him tightly, and he didn't budge no matter how hard he screamed and flailed, and America huffed, dragging him back to the Englishman's red Toyota. (He had always oh so affectionately called it "England's old man car", but for now, he decided to be good.) He glanced at Russia, who, like he promised, waited for America, and he smiled, chuckling nervously.

"Ah...it seems there's been a change of plans, I can't make it to the movie. Sorry, Ivan, I'll try to make it some other time..."

"Ah, that's fine, Comrade Jones! I will wait for your visit then."

"Thanks, man! Ah...hey, England, quit squirming..!"

"JUST GO WITH HIM, DAMMIT, I DON'T CARE! LEAVE ME ALONE, I WANT TO GO BACK TO THE HOTEL!"

"What, so you can drown your sorrows in alcohol and bitch about me leaving you alone..?" America snorted. "No way. Now come on, I'm taking you back to the hotel myself. Later, Russia!"

"до свидания (do svidaniya), comrade! I look forward to your visit!"

With a smile and a wave, the Russian went to his own vehicle and got in, driving off, all the while the Englishman still screaming out his protests. Uncaring, America opened the door to the Englishman's car, tossed him in, and buckled him, stealing the keys and moving over to the driver's side, before he realised that...it was...an English car, and he'd just put _England _into the driver's side. Sighing, he took the Englishman back out, ignoring him when he continued his flailing and beating his back (he hit hard when he was pissed off!) and finally put him in the _passenger _seat. Why were English cars so weird anyway? They were all built backwards! He would have to remember to go to England one day and educate the poor people there that they'd been doing it wrong the whole time.


	4. Inquiry

The entire time they were on their way to the hotel, all England could do was scream, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He'd cursed everything from France, to alcohol, to America, then back to France, and finally the Russian, before he...went back to...cursing France. Again. That seemed to be his default for when he didn't quite know _who _he was supposed to fuss at, and when they finally reached the hotel, England having taken to competing with the volume of the radio, (America had it _all the way up_, and he was blasting _rock_ music, how was England still clearly audible through that!) America shut off the engine, pocketed the keys, and dragged the Briton to the elevator (after yet again being fussed at for not calling it a "lift",) wondering if the man would _ever _shut up... England's frustrated tears were starting to show, small drops now barely visible in the very corners of his eyes, and Alfred blew a strand of hair out of his face, thanking God when the doors opened and he could get out... He didn't even have to hold onto the Anglo nation any more, he was pretty much following along, vocal chords getting a workout, and so once they reached the Englishman's door, he turned, frowning, and demanded the key. There was a moment's hesitation, a dumbstruck look on the Brit's face, and a "What?" before the penny finally dropped, and he handed Alfred the card key to the room. England went in first, America having pushed him, and he slammed the door behind him, gripping England by the collar and giving him a good shake.

"SHUT! UP! ! !"

England promptly obeyed the command, if only because he was surprised by the sudden volume of the American's voice.

"Damn, England, will you just stop! ? I want to _talk _to you, that's totally different from getting yelled at, you know!"

The boy took a moment to make sure he wouldn't have to gag the Englishman before flicking on the lights, and leading him over to sit on the bed. The springs creaked softly under their weight, and he heaved a sigh, turning to him.

"Okay. Start at the beginning. _Why _are you mad at Russia?"

England said nothing, and only ended up glancing away.

"Okay...fine. Don't look at me. But answer my questio-"

"I don't like him being so close to you."

"You don't like the thought of me dating him..?"

Dirty-blonde hair swayed gently as an English head was shaken. He really _did _feel like a scolded child, and he wasn't so fond of feeling that way. Especially not since he was _older _than America and, in fact, had sort of raised him...

"Can you at least tell me _why_..?"

England glared back at him, glowing emerald eyes peering up through his fringe.

"Does this have anything to do with what you said about having fallen for me?"

Considering the way England's cheeks lit up, America was fairly certain that he could assume that the answer was "yes". He frowned, raised a brow, and hummed absently, leaning back. He supported himself by his arms, and stared at the ceiling, swinging his leg.

"England, you can stop playing dumb, you already pretty much told me how you feel..."

The Briton's eyes narrowed and, bringing his knees to his chest, he kept his gaze down, not wanting to catch Alfred's eyes again. He was too embarrassed by now, and he would only end up flustered if he saw how the American looked at him... He rubbed at the subtle tears in his eyes, and "humph"ed.

"What does it matter to you, anyway? I never told you, and you found someone else, I'll get over it. Now just go on to watch your stupid film with Russia, and leave me alone, will you? Don't you think I've been through _enough _today?"

"Well...I'm not _trying _to embarrass you, England... Or...Arthur."

There was a quick twinge in his stomach at the mentions of his human name. Why couldn't he say it under better circumstances..?

"Either way, it doesn't matter. Just go, I'm finished talking about this."

"But I'm not..! You didn't even hear what I had to say! Why do you always think the worst?"

"I've not had the best past. We're leaving it at that."

"Okay, fine... But can I at least say something before you try to kick me out?"

"You've been talking the whole time."

"I mean I want to say something _else!_"

"All right, fine! What the hell is it! ?"

"I don't want to tell you now, you're in a bad mood! You'll probably yell at me again!"

"I will not, now what _is _it! ?"

"You're _already _yelling again, I'm not telling you!"

There was a distinct grinding noise as England clenched his teeth together. He gripped the sheets so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and the blood that had evacuated from _there _had apparently migrated to his face, because it had turned a horrible red... Even when he spoke, he had his teeth clenched, and so his words were obviously forced.

"All right... I'm not...going...to yell. Now tell me, America: what, exactly, did you have to say?"

Normally, this would be the point where America would grin, having gotten his way, and spill whatever it was that he wanted. This time, however, he cast the man in front of him a sceptical look, contorting his face into something that was...really quite comical, and England probably would have laughed, had he not been so pissed off. He really did have quite the stressful day, didn't he?

"...I guess... Just don't like...you know...go nuts or something."

"...I'm listening, I assure you."

"Yeah, okay, um...so...I guess I should start with the beginning."

"Clearly."

"I'm...well, I'm not in any kind of relationship with Ivan. At all."

"W-well...but...what?"

"I'm not in a relationship with Ivan! He's okay to talk to sometimes, but I would never...you know..._kiss _him or anything!"

Sticking out his tongue and scrunching up his face, America made it quite clear that he was opposed to the idea and, in fact, continued his complaints.

"Why would I want to _kiss _him? His commie germs might rub off on me, and that would be so _gross_, England!"

Suddenly, England came to a realisation. His brows furrowed, and he allowed his legs to drop back to the floor. He didn't want to bring up the subject again, but he was far too curious, and he had to ask...

"W-wait, so...if you would never kiss him...then what were you doing when I saw you leant over the table..?"

"Huh? Oh, you mean just before you came in? I tried to tell you in the meeting room, we weren't kissing!" The American smirked. Why was he smirking..? "He was whispering in my ear... He had a secret to tell me, and he wanted to make sure no one was listening in."

"...oh."

And with that, Arthur's face turned red. Not just a light red either, if you were to splash his face with ketchup, then you wouldn't be able to tell, and he glanced at the floor, fidgeting. Damn, now he felt like an idiot _and _a stalker, and he was fairly well ready for America to leave so he could die and rot in the hotel by himself. Of course, the thought that America wasn't with Russia calmed him a bit, but now he was plagued by the thought that America was single and knew about his feelings, and he groaned, rubbing at his stinging face. Maybe he would get lucky and Alfred wouldn't press the issue, but then England opened his mouth, and cursed himself inwardly...

"Then you're not dating _anyone?_"

America only laughed, tilting his head back in his myrth.

"No, England, I'm totally single. Still on the market, and completely free."

Then there was silence. All England could make out was the ticking of the alarm clock on the side table, and the thrumming of his heart, the two noises not quite in synch, but as the minutes wore on, and neither of them said anything, the semi-comfortable silence was beginning to grow quite awkward...

"...hey, Arthur..?"

"A-ah! Y-yes..?"

"Didn't you have something to ask me..?"

"L...like..?"

"You basically asked if I was single, that's totally an opening for "will you go out with me" or something! Did you want to ask or not?"

_Why _was that boy so tactless! ? England groaned again, hiding his face, and flopped back on the bed in desperation. He was really having a shitty day...

"Is that a yes?"

"N-not really... I don't particularly feel like asking, to tell you the truth..."

"Aww, why not? You're supposed to ask me now, Arthur, it's in all the movies!"

"No...no thank you, I'm fine with not knowing the answer..."

"You're just being stubborn! Well fine, if you won't ask, then I will!"

"Wait, what! ?"

America snorted, crawling over the Briton, and stared down at him, the Englishman having pulled his hands away from his face in his momentary lapse of brain function, and when he saw America's face only a few inches from his, he squeaked, and tried to press himself farther into the mattress.

"I said that if you won't ask, I will! Really, and France already said that I was being obvious!"

"O-obvious! ?"

He was promptly ignored.

"Will you go out with me?"

"G...go...what! ?"

"'Will you go out with me'!"

And then it started. His speech tumbled off into a bunch of incoherent babbles only mildly resembling words, and his mind had begun reeling, and even his bodily motions had gotten a bit spastic and random. The way he saw it, there were three possibilities to this situation: one, America had gone crazy and didn't know what he was saying, two, _he_ had gone crazy and was imagining things, or three, he _had _passed out earlier, and was now dreaming. It was when he caught the slight look of fear in the other's eyes when he realised that the American was fully aware of what he was saying, and he stopped hyperventilating when he realised that America was actually afraid of being rejected... He blinked a few times, making a small noise of confusion, and arched a brow, glancing briefly to the side.

"I-I...are you serious..?"

"Yeah! I mean...you said you liked me, and since I like you too, it makes sense, right?"

"I...I know, but are you...you're not just making fun of me again..?"

"No way! I might tease at you sometimes, but this is completely legit! I'm not such a bastard that I would mock your _emotions_, England... Well, not like _this _anyway. So...you're gonna say yes, right? You said you liked me, England, you _have _to say yes!"

Even if England wanted to object, the expression in America's eyes kept him from doing it. It was hopeful, scared, enthusiastic, all while holding that same optimistic attitude it always had. He smiled briefly before clearing his throat, and pouting. His face was still red, and he forced himself to narrow his eyes in mild defiance.

"I...d-don't want you to call us 'boyfriends'...understand? We're...we are to be 'lovers'. It sounds more proper, less juvenile... And...and if we are going to be lovers, th-then...you may call me 'Arthur'."

"So you're saying 'yes'!"

England's only response was a nod. A slow one, and an embarrassed one, but it was a nod, and America was going to take it. He practically squealed with delight, and before England could stop him, he pressed his whole body weight down on the poor Briton, the Anglo nation being squished under the weight of the superpower... America wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck, (as well as he could, since they were both lying down,) and England found himself blushing yet again, unable to yell. He rather enjoyed the attention, though he still didn't want to let the American see all of his feelings just yet, and so he tried to keep his emotions in check, but even as he was thinking this, his hands went up to cup Alfred's cheeks. Unable to hold himself back, he brought their lips together for a soft, tender kiss, the first of what would be many.


	5. Satisfaction

The kiss was brief. Soon enough, the Brit got a bit flustered (he'd been pining for America for quite some time, it was understandable really,) and had to pull back. His lips tingled, though that could very well have been his imagination trying to romanticise the series of events that had led up to all of this, and he stumbled over a soft "ahh..." before glancing away.

"Sorry...about that. I don't...I don't know what came over me. I hope you don't mind kissing so soon..."

America let out a soft chuckle, sitting back on his haunches.

"Nah, it's cool. I'm just glad you've calmed down, you're no fun when you're yelling."

There was that tactlessness again, and England could feel his eyebrow twitch, though he tried to ignore the comment. After all, if he didn't say anything, maybe the comment would be forgotten, and they could get on with their new relationship, but of course America wouldn't let that happen. No, he opened his mouth again.

"I'm still surprised that you thought I was dating _Russia!_ I mean really, England, I don't even get along with him most of the time, how could you think I was dating him! ?"

He let out a hardy laugh, and England's eyebrow twitched again, the men falling back into their typical routine of fighting non-stop. England supposed that would never truly change, and that he would just have to get used to it, but he had kind of hoped they could be a _little _more civil with each other...

"I-it just _looked _like you...I mean...I-I heard you two...that is...why is it so strange to think! ? I don't know what the hell kind of people you're interested in! How was I supposed to know! ? D-don't make it seem like I'm supposed to know everything about you!"

"I don't expect you to know everything about me, England, but really...were you jealous?"

"J-jealous?"

"Yeah, jealous. I dunno, you just seemed kinda sad, and you looked jealous to me."

"I-I wasn't jealous..! Y-you're free to go with whomever you want, I...I was only wishing you well!"

"You looked like you were about to cry..."

"I was not, you're just reading too much into my expression!"

"Are you getting mad at me again, Arthur?"

"I-I wasn't mad!"

"You're totally getting mad at me..."

"N-no...no, I'm not..!"

Their argument escalated from there, the two English speaking nations fussing, or rather...one fussing and the other teasing, but soon enough, the question came back, and they were right back to the first square...

"Are you sure you weren't jealous?"

England groaned, hiding his face in irritation.

"_Why _do you keep asking that..! ?"

"Because...w-well...I dunno, it was just...just kinda...kinda cute...I guess..."

"C-cute..?"

This made the Brit stop short. America thought he was cute..? Well...at least when he was jealous, anyway? That...made him blush, and he peeked out from between his fingers. America was glancing away, off towards one of the hideous paintings that furnished every hotel room, not paying attention.

"You thought it was...you thought it was cute?"

"Y-yeah... Your face gets all red, and your lip pushes out, and you just...it was cute. Your eyebrows bristle, and get all fluffy."

England had to pout at that one. His eyebrows weren't so big that America could tell when they bristled, were they..? S-surely not... They were actually relatively normal sized, weren't they..? It was then that his thoughts were interrupted by the realisation that he was pouting, and now that Alfred had pointed it out to him that he did that, he tried to force himself to _stop _pouting. He was going to be self-conscious of that now, he could tell, and even as he thought that, he could feel his face heating up. He wouldn't be able to beat this, he knew, but he'd be damned if he wasn't stubborn enough to try... America only laughed, and wrapped his arms around him.

"Wh-what are you doing! ?"

"What? It's just a hug! You kissed me a minute ago, I'm perfectly allowed to hug you!"

"Well, yes, b-but-!"

"I just want to hug you! Do I need a reason now that we're dating?"

"W-well, yes, a reason would be nice!"

"Fine, spoil-sport. I did it because I love you! Geez, England, you're too uptight, when was the last time you got laid?"

He turned a _horrible _shade of scarlet, voice so high pitched it was a miracle that all the dogs in the entire city didn't flock to that hotel...

"Are we _really _talking about this! ? _Really! ?_"

"What? It's not like I was saying we were gonna do it right now! I was just asking!"

"It's none of your damn business when the last time I got laid was, why don't you focus your attention on something more productive, like fixing your economy! ? Why don't you do _that!_ _?_"

"So it's been a while then?"

"Y-YOU TACTLESS IDIOT! ! ! ! ! !"

"It _has _been a while then! Cool!"

And thus, their conversation continued on like that for the remainder of the night. They didn't get anywhere, and it was just how you'd expect their first night as a couple to go. There was much yelling, and even a few blows were thrown, though it was mostly England, beating on America's chest for saying something uncouth, or careless again. Eventually, it grew late, and they ended up falling asleep, and even their shoes stayed on, the two men draped over each other awkwardly. Their sleep was peaceful, dreams non-existent, and as they slept, they rolled off of each other. Their legs ended up tangled, the two men locked in a loving embrace, and as unintentional as it was...it was still sweet. Until they woke up, of course, and then the shouting began again. Even so, against all odds, they somehow had a (relatively) happy relationship.


	6. Completion

"Oh, man, it was _awesome_, Ivan, you really know movies!"

"I am glad that you enjoyed it, comrade Jones! Perhaps we could go see another sometime! I would be happy to pay for your ticket..."

"Dude, when was the last time I told you how much you rock?"

It was only a few months or so after America and England had first gotten together. Alfred had gone with Russia to see that film he'd missed the first time, and the two English-speaking nations had already taken their relationship to the next level, and honestly, if anything, England had gotten more protective and jealous than before. He was currently sitting outside the door to the meeting room, a bit of deja vu for him, listening to the conversation. His left eye was twitching slightly, and his body was warm, the Brit able to _feel _the jealousy rising in him.

"I am happy that you think so!" came a cheerful, chirping voice, Russian accent thick. "As long as we are talking about films, there was one that looked rather interesting at your place..."

"Heh. You wanna come see it?" he smirked. "You want me to pay your admission, don't you? 'Fair trade' or something like that?"

"You are very observant, comrade!"

"Well, I don't guess it would be too much trouble, I mean, with you paying for my tickets at your place, it's the least I could do, right? When did you want to see this movie?"

"As soon as possible would be nice. I did my research, it is already out in your country. We could be going...sometime today, perhaps?"

"Yeah, sure! Soon as the meeting's over then?"

"I will be waiting for you outside! Спасибо!" (Spasibo)

"Sweet! Well, I'm getting kinda hungry, and the break is almost over, so I'm going to head off to the snack machines and grab a candy bar. You want anything?"

"No thank you, comrade Jones, I brought something in my briefcase! I will eat it in here and wait for everyone to return, Дa?"

"If you insist. Later, Ivan!"

"Goodbye, comrade! I am eagerly awaiting that film!"

"Haha, me too, it's gonna be fun!"

And with those words, he left, though he didn't get far. Just around the corner of the hall, waiting for him at the snack machines, England grabbed the man by the collar, Alfred giving a surprised shout, and pushed him against the side of the drink machine, face first.

"You were talking to him again..." he began, body pressed flush against Alfred's. He was already inching his fingers under the man's suit jacket, knee pressed in between his legs.

"Ngh..! And you...you were spying again..!"

"With good reason. I don't like you talking to him, I made that clear..."

Alfred smirked, knowing what was to come next. It had been like this every time he was caught talking to Russia, at least since he'd gotten with England, and he was starting to realise just why France always tried to push the title of "World's Most Sensual Entity" onto the Brit... He could be pretty bad when he wanted to be, especially when jealous, and now that they'd actually _become_ a couple, he had no qualms about showing it... Hands trailed over Alfred's hips, moving to hastily and skilfully undo the first few buttons of his blazer, bottom to top, which only emphasized the American's point.

"I stopped listening to you long ago, don't try and act like you have authority over me again just because we're dating now!"

He seemed amused... England frowned, jerking the blazer off and throwing it to the floor.

"We're lovers, and that means you belong to _me_, Alfred. What am I supposed to think when you sit with him alone, and talk for hours on end..?"

"That we...that we're holding a conversation?"

The American grinned teasingly, shifting, to try and find a more comfortable spot. The drink machine wasn't the most comfortable place England had ever chosen to shove him against... He choked for just a moment as England pulled his tie backwards for a quick, rough kiss, but he soon regained his breath as the kiss wore on and evened out, if only to lose it again once he felt a hand tugging at his belt.

"Don't try to be funny, Alfred... Not now."

Another tug and the belt had been undone, and all that stood in the Englishman's way were a pair of trousers, and some undies. He glanced around, picked up the blazer, and grabbed America's tie again, pulling him in between the drink and snack machines, a spot that was somewhat hidden to anyone moving back from the cafeteria to the meeting room. America's back was to the wall this time, and England pressed against him, placing their lips together demandingly. There were a few possessive growls as the American's zip and button were undone, and honestly, they really didn't have to hide at all, because with the sloppy, wet sounds their lips made, smacking against each other, they would have been easily found regardless.

America grunted, England's fingers tweaking a nipple rather insistently through his dress shirt, and his brows furrowed, cheeks flushing in his building pleasure. It wasn't the first time England had dragged him off for talking to Russia, and on some days, America even pretended to talk to the man on the phone just to get Arthur riled. It was a fun game that he liked to play, and the rewards were often great, especially when he didn't quite let England have his way at first.

Alfred's trousers came down quickly, Arthur's hands roaming his body, and with the prolonged length of the kiss, the American was starting to grow a bit light-headed, especially with those kisses added onto those touches. Arthur's hands were sliding up his sides, and over his chest, down his arms, and around his shoulders... It was a bit of a sensory overload, it clouded his mind somewhat, and in his hazy state of mind, he couldn't keep a moan from slipping past his guard. England pulled back for just a moment, only to attack America's lips again, a bit more passionately this time (a response to his moans) that America found England often did when in one of his "moods". He was starting to notice his pants still clinging to his hips, if only because England was grinding his knee into him again... He cursed to himself, mind swimming, and he only realised that he wasn't being kissed any more when his vision cleared with his rapid intake of air. His legs trembled slightly, England had _amazing_ kissing skills (years of practice, undoubtedly,) and the only thing that kept him from sliding to the ground was that damned knee, still in its place. His breath was heavy, just slightly so, and the feral smirk on England's face sent shivers up the American's spine. The Englishman hummed, clearly knowing he'd won, and licked his lips, not to moisten them, but to remove the excess saliva. Alfred opened his mouth to say something, whether it be protest or plea, no one would know, because before he could get a sound out, a hand shot out to cover his mouth, and keep him from speaking.

"Shh..."

"...perhaps we could eat lunch together tomorrow..? Maybe at this nice little restaurant I know of back in Paris~? Of course, I would pay for you, such a beautiful man should not pay for his own food, oui?"

"Why the hell can't you get it! ? I said 'no' the first six times, dammit, leave me alone!"

"Oh, but Italian and French...two nations known for love...surely we could heat up the night in such a magnificent way! Why do you not just think about it?"

"I said '_**NO**_'!"

The voices faded as the owners continued down the hall, and the hand slipped off of his lips, the American swallowing when he realised that people were starting to filter in from the cafeteria. The lunch break was nearly over, people were coming back in, and they were nearly out of time. He wasn't sure if he wanted this any more... England, however, knew very well that _he _wanted it, and he never missed a beat, rolling right into massaging Alfred's erection with one hand, his other hand slipping into the sides of the boxer-briefs to try and slide them down. America gasped, hips jerking involuntarily, and as his undergarments began to slowly peel away, the rougher fabric causing friction against his sensitive flesh, he grit his teeth, fingernails digging into the wall behind him. He couldn't risk making too much noise, more people might come by, and as loud and outgoing as he was, he wasn't quite _that_ open.

Finally, his undies fell to the floor, and it was then that he noticed the bulge in England's own trousers. Of course England would be hard by this point too, that was fully understandable, but really, he should have taken his clothing off by now... He was still fully clothed! America's eyebrows furrowed, and England smirked.

"I want _you _to do it."

When America glanced up, England's eyes were forest green, the Briton staring into his own navy optics, and the boy wouldn't have been shocked to find that his very soul was being seen into. He'd obviously been caught looking, the Anglo nation having decided to toy with him a bit more, though by this point, it was becoming more like torture, and another pair walked by, these two speaking what sounded like Chinese and an occasional Korean word. England pressed himself flush against Alfred to keep from being seen, and the American's eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to keep from crying out, Adam's apple bobbing with the force of his gulp. The hallway was quiet once more, the door to the meeting room clicking shut, and England was at work again, lips and teeth working at America's neck, just enough to make his skin prickle.

"I said I wanted _you_ to do it, Alfred..." he whispered, breath hot and thick. "Hurry now, the meeting is sure to recommence soon. Everyone's beginning to come our way..."

This was all the incentive that the American needed, he didn't want to be caught like _that,_ and so, fingers shaking slightly, just enough to be noticed, he worked open the button, dragged down the zip, and smirked, deciding to get a bit of revenge in before letting England have his way. He reached into the "V" shape made by the opened zip, and stroked, just once, over the Briton's cock, earning himself a soft hiss, and a quiet growl of pleasure.

"Fuck..."

"You want to?"

Another childish grin from the American, and England rolled his eyes.

"You're hilarious. Now will you just remove my trousers, already..? I'm getting a bit impatient, and honestly, the meeting really will resume before too terribly long. I don't care much if we get caught, but I know you seem to be a bit shy about it, so I'm quite sure that you'll want to hurry this along, yeah?"

Alfred pouted.

"You just know how to suck the fun out of everything, don't ya?"

"Alfred, if you don't hurry up, _you'll _be the one sucking, and I'll not do _anything_ for _you_, now pull my trousers _down._"

As if he wanted to make it more difficult for the American, England leaned forward, teeth connecting with the soft flesh of his neck. America shivered, tilting his head to the side, and grunted, feeling those teeth begin to nip, and bite.

"H-hey, hey, don't leave marks! Everyone will see them!"

"Including Russia, yeah?"

Arthur's voice was low, and husky.

"Wh-wha..?"

"I'm simply letting him know who you belong to, Alfred... You're _my _territory, not his, and if this is what it takes to remind you of that, then so be it..."

He began to suck, lips and teeth and tongue working together to draw blood to the surface, and before long, there was a spotted red mark marring the what-once-was clear, pale skin of America's neck. England began to lap at it, as if a cat nursing a wound, and soon moved on to another spot, making similar marks along the entirety of his throat.

"America...remove my trousers...now."

"A-ah..? Oh! Sorry, I...I nearly...forgot..."

Finally, at long last, the American willed his hands to move, and he placed them at Arthur's hips, tugging the material of his trousers down. He didn't wait quite so long to pull at the other's undergarments, and they fell just moments after the trousers hit the floor. By now, America's neck was littered with spots, England had probably gone a bit overboard, but he didn't seem keen on the idea of stopping, and he flipped the boy around, continuing his nibbling on the _back _of his neck, near his hair line.

They were both panting by now, breaths heaving, and they had a hard time keeping _that_ concealed as strong, heavy footsteps fell in the hallway, softer and more dainty footsteps following along, accompanied by another person who kept whispering out "ve"s. They were running out of time, and Arthur grit his teeth, reaching into his coat pocket to retrieve the lubrication he'd gotten into the habit of bringing with him now. America had compared him to France in the past, but he was usually "silenced" before too long anyway, and so England never paid much attention to it. Currently, he was digging his teeth into a condom wrapper (also in his coat pocket,) and tossing the silver covering to the floor, uncaring as he began to stretch the elastic material over himself.

There was a short, dull "pop" as the lubricant bottle opened, and a wet sound as it was poured into Arthur's hand. It all happened in a matter of mere seconds, Arthur had gotten fast, and without warning, at least, nothing more than a smirk and light hum, Arthur's index finger was slipping inside the American, wiggling in deep. America wasn't quite so tight as he once was, but still, he needed a bit of preparation (it had been a while since they'd done it, his muscles had tensed again,) and so he had to be careful, though with the way America groaned, geeping his mouth against the back of his hand to keep quiet, it was hard not to try and make him scream. He managed to control himself, thoughts of being interrupted by someone trying to see what was going on thick in his mind, and rubbed against the inside walls of America instead, feeling the man twitch, and jerk under his single finger.

Perhaps the reason he enjoyed taking America like this so much was that he felt as if he had power again, he enjoyed how simple it was to have America liquify under his touch, but leaving it at that would make him sound like a selfish and controlling bastard, and so he decided to end it with "he also enjoyed how it made America feel good". Yes, that made him seem _much_ less of a bastard, and he pulled out that one finger, adding a second this time as well. He brought his fingers apart, trying to open the boy up farther, and then curled them, sinking them in and pulling them out, a slow thrusting motion to give the boy pleasure. He knew it was always a bit odd at first, having fingers inside of you, but he tried to make the process as fast and pleasurable as he could. Three fingers came next, and Arthur focused more, this time, on pushing them in as deep as he could, though when he was satisfied, he curled his fingers just slightly, up towards the American's stomach. There was a muffled shout, Alfred actually shuddered, knees looking as if they were about to collapse, but he managed to stand on his shaking feet, forehead leaning against the wall. He was panting rather harshly now, just that one strike was enough, and Arthur pulled his digits, not wanting America to fall to the floor before they'd even gotten started.

The cap to the lubricant was again popped open, and that same wet sound as before shot through America's ears, chilling him and making his body unbearably hot at the same time. There was a soft grunt, England clearly trying to keep his voice down as he lubricated the condom, but the problem came when he bent forward, breath landing on Amerca's ear. America was having a hard enough time not making noise in the first place, he didn't need the extra difficulty! Luckily for him it didn't last long, and he'd only let out one strained moan, but he had the stranges feeling that he wasn't going to be able to be terribly quiet for very much longer. Arthur positioned himself, gripping Alfred's hips for balance, and the aforementioned American took a deep breath, fingernails digging into the wall. He spread his legs a bit more, just in case, and bit his lip, eyes clenching shut as he waited for that first entry. With a husky breath of "All right", England pushed forward, keeping his pace slow until he settled in.

There was a short curse from the American as he felt the pressure from that first push in, he wasn't sure he would ever get used to the sensation, though he wasn't taking quite as long to adjust as he first was. He gave a nod, a grunted "go", and Arthur, hissed, having to catch himself from snapping back in once he pulled out. He got the chills every time they did this. It was still hard to believe that he actually did it sometimes, with just how long he'd wanted to have America, but if truth be told, he'd always figured he would be the one on the receiving end if it _did_ happen. People called him feminine quite a bit, said he was "slender" and whatnot, but he was actually kind of proud, being able to top the stronger American. His pace quickened with his thoughts, damn, soon he wouldn't even _have_ thoughts, but while he was still able to control himself, he peeked over the American's shoulder, mentally noting that he would have teeth marks on his thumb later (he was biting down pretty hard in his attempted silence.)

The hallway was actually rather quiet, most everyone had re-entered the meeting room, and the Briton had to keep a check on his speed, lest their bodies smack together too sharply, though as he began to move, he feared his body would run away without his consent. He'd not been inside of America for longer than a minute, and his mind was already hazing with impatience, and greed. He wanted America all to himself, he briefly thought of Russia, and his body tensed, and without caring who may be listening, he growled, low in his throat, and pistoned his hips forward, determined to claim the man beneath him as his own, to prove to him that the Russian couldn't possibly give him this much pleasure...

Sweat beginning to trickle down his brow, England nibbled at his lover's ear, smirking in satisfaction when he heard Alfred's breath hitch. The poor boy wouldn't last too long now, and that was incentive enough for Arthur to pick things up, and in that moment, teeth still resting on Alfred's ear, he breathed out his demands, voice husky, and low.

"Alfred...say my name..."

Alfred never denied him anything when he asked like that, and with such a simple request, why wouldn't he comply? The name fell from the younger nation's lips quickly, almost as if he'd been waiting for permission, and Arthur decided that, with such hasty compliance, America deserved a reward. Focusing more on slow, deep thrusts, rather than quick, shallow ones, Arthur reached around towards the wall, fingers brushing the burning (and very solid) flesh of Alfred's cock. Hand wrapping more firmly around the length, he swore he could feel Alfred's heartbeat through it, given how hard it was, America was obviously past due, and with a few quick and deliberate strokes, Arthur brought the boy to orgasm, petting him until he was milked dry.

Mind still muddled with his pleasurable high, England didn't even notice that his hand was now coated in an off-white, sticky mess. In his opinion, there was no need to worry about it now, not when he was so damn close himself, and more determined than ever to finish, he shoved in a few more times, using a bit more force than intended. It hadn't taken much more time, he'd been close already, and body trembling violently with his release, the condom filled, leaving England breathing deeply into the back of America's neck. Alfred hadn't said anything after his own orgasm, nothing more than a few soft, breathless sighs each time he was thrust into, and to Arthur, that just showed how much the poor thing had been wiped out. Sex always tired him, he was just one of those people who exhausted after the first round, but the faces he made after he began to doze off, so calm, and relaxed, and oblivious to everything else...well, Arthur loved them. They were endearing to him, and he pulled out, slipping off the condom and tying it.

Helping the American to the floor, England began to rummage around in his pockets for the handkerchief he always kept in the chest of his suit. While he'd worn a condom, America hadn't, and the evidence of their act had splattered all over the wall... Obviously that would have to be cleaned, and Arthur took it upon himself, first wiping his own cock free of whatever happened to leak out of the condom as he was taking it off, and then cleaning up Alfred. He wasted no time in redressing before he went around the corner, cleaning off the cloth (and his hand) in the water fountain, rushing back to wipe off the walls, and what had managed to drip to the floor. He simply tossed the handkerchief in the trash bin, scrambling to redress America, and taking an American dollar from the boy's wallet, he bought a Coke from the vending machine they'd just fucked in the presence of. Alfred drank it down greedily, the reddish hue beginning to finally drain from his cheeks, and with a smirk, England pecked his forehead, helping him up. He momentarily noted that Alfred was still wobbly on his feet, but a few more minutes recovering would fix that; Arthur just had to let Alfred lean on him for support for a bit.

They were probably already late for the meeting, and a quick glance at the clock on the wall confirmed it. They'd missed the deadline by a mere two minutes, but that wasn't enough to warrant suspicion. At least...it hadn't been in the past. He was sure it would be fine. The instant America had finished his Coke, even if his face was still a bit pink, the Englishman sent him on ahead, figuring that it would only be more suspicious if they ended up walking back in together. Even as the younger male walked into the door, he could already hear him, that loud, boisterous voice echoing through the hallway, even though he wasn't even _in _the hall any more...

"Hey, guys, you miss me yet! Sorry I'm late, England and I got stuck in the elevator. It was hell to get the door open, it was stuck pretty tight, but with my strength, we got out fine! ... England? Nah, he'll be along shortly, he's grabbing a drink from the water fountain."

All he could do was shake his head. That boy was mad, truly, but what could he do? All he could think of was to hope that the lie was believed, and he walked on towards the meeting room door, trying to put on his best grumpy expression... Before he could even reach the room, however, that Russian's voice, the one he'd come to think of as a rival, assaulted his ears...and he went red.

"That is a nice tattoo you have on your neck, America! But why would you get so many of the same red spots on your neck?"

Stupid Russian, noticing something that didn't concern him... Why couldn't he mind his own business, anyway! ? The rest of this meeting would be horribly awkward, but what else could he do? He sucked it up, and trudged in, preparing for the onslaught of teasing to come... Though still, if Russia noticed the marks, at least he knew that America was taken, and that gave England enough satisfaction to enter the room with little more hesitance.


End file.
